


Making a Mockery

by DoreyG



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Biting, Bruises, Community: comment_fic, Implied Relationships, Implied Rough Sex, M/M, Marking, Pre-Slash, Thaal Sinestro is Not a Nice Guy, posessiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5653390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lantern,” Bats says lowly when he gets back to the watchtower, staring at his neck so closely that he feels tempted to start making vampire jokes just to diffuse some of the tension, “are you… Alright?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making a Mockery

“Lantern,” Bats says lowly when he gets back to the watchtower, staring at his neck so closely that he feels tempted to start making vampire jokes just to diffuse some of the tension, “are you… Alright?” 

“What?” He snaps, put on the defensive by the sheer shock of having Bats take an interest in him beyond yelling and sarcastic remarks. He wasn’t aware that the man was capable of concern, it’s kinda terrifying to experience, “don’t I _look_ alright?” 

“No,” Bats says bluntly, as per usual. But the terror doesn’t quite go away, the atmosphere doesn’t quite go back to normal, because the guy is still _staring_ at him with the kind of focus that could probably peel paint from the walls if given half a chance, “you look sleep deprived, angry and like you’re in the mood for a fight. Quite honestly, if I said that you looked like a mess I’d be being _kind_.” 

“And god knows you’re allergic to that,” he huffs, rolls his eyes. Being a cocky little shit is how he’s always dealt with people prodding into his business, he’s not about to stop now, “you’ve just described how I usually look after missions, Bats. That _is_ alright for me.” 

“Yes, but…” Bats purses his lips for a long moment, sighs out through his nose. He glares, and resists the urge to start bouncing from foot to foot, “you honestly aren’t aware, are you?” 

“Aware of how I really want to go for a nap?” He asks archly, and continues to glare. It won’t put off the dark knight of angry facial expressions, obviously, but it makes him feel a bit better and that’s the important thing, “or aware of how you’re being really, _really_ annoying? Or-?” 

“Jordan,” Bats snaps. And, when he only continues to glower, sighs again – grabs his arm, and pulls him around until he can see himself in the shiny reflection of one of the hanger walls, “aware of _that_.” 

…The giant, purpling bruise on his neck. The vivid cut in the middle, so deep and puffy looking that it’s inevitably going to leave an impressive scar. The clear sign, of what he’s been doing when offworld and who exactly he’s been doing it with. The mark of fangs, as clear as a collar around his neck. 

_Shit_. 

“Jordan,” Bats is repeating awkwardly, looking at him with that same lingering concern that now feels just a little like a fist right in the gut, “if you were bitten by something, if that thing _hurt_ you, then I’d be perfectly happy to-“ 

“Shut up,” he whispers. Sees, in the shiny reflection of the wall, his fingers twitch abortively – as he barely restrains the urge to lift his hand up to his neck and probe the wound. 

“…I should at least take you to the medical centre,” Bruce continues to argue, after a long pause in which several conclusions are obviously reached. He’s the great detective, even better than Sherlock fucking Holmes. He can probably figure it out in five seconds flat, and still have ample time to judge him afterwards, “a bite that deep could get infected, and if there’s alien saliva inside it-“ 

“I said,” he repeats tetchily, stares for a moment more and then forces himself to spin away. To stop _focusing_ on it, the fucking mark of ownership that mocks him loud and clear, “shut _up_.” 

“Jordan-“ 

But it’s too late. He’s already marching away, out of the hanger and up into the watchtower as fast as he can. Maybe he can outrun the memory of Sinestro’s teeth on his skin, Sinestro’s whispers in his ear, if he moves fast enough. It’s certainly worth a try.


End file.
